Even Angels Fall
by Yahnkehy
Summary: Introspective HiruMamo, Angel Devil theme, set after college.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Even Angels Fall

Pairing: HiruMamo, kinda (Surprised? Me too. XD)

Rating: Introspective, lead in.

Warnings: slight OOC Mamo-nee (just to cover my ass)

Summary: Set after the series; post college. Mamori wonders what happened to Hiruma.

A/N: Written on the spur of the moment (as in I didn't have it written before I wrote the preceding Title through A/N ;; I know, baaaaad Yahnkehy-kun.). I know I suck at writing Mamori, but I'll try to keep her as close to in character as possible. Concrit is adored and more than welcome.

Yahnkehy's inspiration: "The Angel watches him struggle, heart breaking for him. The Devil's plight is felt within her own heart. Her heart has spoken; she tips her wing into his hand."

00

The job she'd applied for and gotten had looked so much better on paper than it was to actually do. Assistant Director of the high school amefuto division looked like all sparkles and hard work, in actuality... it was meetings, grasping principals who were not above trying to bribe her into ignoring infractions of the rules, vain players, and an utter absence of one Hiruma Youichi.

Granted, Mamori was used to the majority of the job; being the manager for Deimon's Devil Bats back in high school had entailed several of her job requirements. The fact that Hiruma wasn't there was the major difference. Back in high school, she might have watched a game or two and enjoyed them, but it was Hiruma who had lit that desire in her gut, that _need_ to fight for the win. He was the entire reason that the sport held her attention for more than a few days.

Hiruma's burning desire to win had caught in every one of his players, and Mamori as well. Now, with the lack of the Demon of Deimon, amefuto was feeling a little flat. She'd known he was getting his masters in business when they'd been in college, but she had always assumed that he was doing it to start a team of his own and 'beat the living hell outta the other team- YA HA!' but, when graduation had come he'd vanished without a trace.

Mamori only knew that because she'd spent the last two years since graduation looking for him, covertly of course. She knew he had spies everywhere and hoped that if he got word that she was looking for him, he might come out.

But, he hadn't. Hiruma Youichi had all but vanished into nothingness. The only proof of his existence were the frightened looks she'd get when she would drop his name in conversations with possible leads. The only answers she'd gotten in two years were horrified expressions and advice to 'let sleeping demons lie'.

Anezaki Mamori wasn't built to give up. She had a job for him -at least that's what she told herself. In all of her twenty-six years, only one person had ever stimulated her mind and heart in a way that made it impossible to function without them.

Yet again, Hiruma Youichi had snagged a minion.

It had taken from high school amefuto to college amefuto clubs to finally put a name to the strange feeling Hiruma always lit in her gut. At first she'd thought it was just the drive to work hard and fight with everything she had, but, after a time, she'd realized that it was more than that. It had startled her at first, this warm and slightly irritated feeling she got around him and had tried to get rid of it by putting it into the arguments she would have with him but it only seemed to grow stronger.

Mamori still hadn't put an exact name to the feeling, too uncomfortable with the notion of tender feelings associated to Hiruma.

"Mamo-chan, you have a guest." Suzuna's slightly amused voice came over the intercom, startling Mamori out of her thoughts.

"Is my schedule open long enough to see this person?" Mamori asked, knowing that if Suzuna labeled the person as a 'guest' that it meant one of her friends had dropped in and wasn't about to tell them no if she had time to see them.

"Oh, uhm, you did have a meeting scheduled in thirty minutes, but they called a moment ago and canceled." Suzuna replied, slight static over the intercom.

"Fine, send in my guest." Mamori rubbed her eyes and straightened a few papers on her desk, she knew that none of her friends really cared if her desk was a mess, but it was habit.

Mamori heard the door open as she was sliding a stack of papers into the bottom drawer of her desk. "Just take a seat, I'll be right... with..." She had sat up and her mouth dropped open.

Spiked blonde hair, vivid green eyes, and a smirk that could send every girl into spasms greeted Mamori's gaze and she slowly stood. "Hi-Hiruma-kun?"

"Fucking Manager."

Damn, was it ever good to hear that again. "My name is Mamori, as you well know, Hiruma-kun."

TBC...


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Even Devils Reach For Heaven

Fandom: Eyeshield 21

Pairing: HiruMamo

Raiting: PG14 (for language)

Warnings: Introspective Hiruma, het, language, and suggestive language

A/N: This one shows Hiruma's side of things and continues along to the after parts. :D

Summary: Hiruma finally answers (in his own way) that question we've all wanted to know; does he love Mamori or do devils only look to the sky and dream of angels?

Yahnkehy's inspiration: "Reaching and yet falling short, time and again he tries until the tips of his fingers brush a delicate wing. He is content."

00

He hated it. The onna was _still_ looking for him. Hadn't she figured it out yet? All of the other team mates that had wanted to find him had been successful after the first try and ended up being pumped for information about Mamori and sworn to 'keep your goddamned mouth shut' as sweetly as Hiruma could ask.

He couldn't see her. He wasn't afraid, per se, but the idea of Mamori figuring out what he felt for her was daunting. As far as he knew -and he knew _quite_ a bit -she'd never dated anyone, never kissed anyone other than Sena and that was only in a motherly way, never noticed when males would appreciate her 'attributes'. It was like feeling something for a fucking angel; and he knew all too well that devils and angels don't really mix.

He'd gotten tired of hearing her call out to him via his spy network, pushing into his chest a little deeper as her cries for him grew almost desperate. So, as any self-respecting demon would, he'd taken care with his appearance, borrowed the fucking lizard as his transport, and made a deal with Suzuna. The little cheerleader had grown into almost his miniature. The female demon to his male, and she used her sweet looks to gather whatever information she wanted. Most of which was handed over to Hiruma... for a price.

Laptop case in hand, he'd strolled into Suzuna's little office, an eyebrow raised in silent question.

Suzuna had nodded and buzzed Mamori, feeding her a line about a canceled meeting and then waiving him in before calling to cancel the meeting herself. "Chibi brat has earned her horns." He murmured, as he passed her, not bothering to look for the smile that he knew was probably lighting her entire face. It was as close to a compliment as he had ever given her.

To say that seeing Mamori's shoulder and the back of her head when he first entered was what he expected would be a gross and repulsive lie. He wanted to see her face, watch her eyes widen and that slight blush that always came to her face when her eyes lit on him.

He was gratified and a little surprised at the reaction he did get, though. Her nostrils flared as if she were trying to catch his scent, eyes dilated until there was nothing more than a slim circling of iridescent blue. His name on her lips was soft, almost loving, even when he'd greeted her in his usual way with 'Fucking Manager'.

"I know your name, fucking manager. Why have you been looking for me?" He asked, leaning against the wall and holding her eyes with a penetrating stare.

"I-I have a few things, actually." She replied, back stiffening as his voice grated over her. "First, I have a job for you; Deimon's amefuto coach left in the middle of the season and the team has been loosing terribly. I was wondering if you would take that job. It pays well and your store of weapons is still there. Musashi-kun goes and cleans them once a week." The next part of her reply would have to wait until after he thought about her offer. There would be no chance of telling him if he refused. She'd tuck it away, knowing that he would be vanishing back to wherever he had come from if he said no.

Hiruma thought about that for a moment, gripping his chin with the knuckle of his forefinger and the end of his thumb; a sign of deep thought. "Were they a good team before their fucking coach left? Raw talent or a bunch of pussies?"

"Not quite what we had as far as talent, but a good deal of heart and a desire to play well. They just don't have anyone to push them like you did to us." She replied honestly, leaning against the edge of her desk in a similar stance to Hiruma's.

"I'll look at them, but I'm not making any fucking promises." Replied Hiruma, stepping away from the wall. "What was the other reason?" His voice seemed to drop a little, sounding almost husky, but it vanished when he opened his mouth again. "I don't have time for friendly visits, fucking manager."

"You jerk." Mamori answered, deadpan, a little smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "I've practiced several times in the mirror how to say this, but nothing comes out right, so I'll just say it plainly." She swallowed and straightened. "I wanted to find you so that you can break my heart. I have liked you since high school, but things were too tense at the time and there was no way to fit a relationship into that atmosphere." She spoke quickly; afraid she would loose her nerve if she stopped to think about what she was saying. "You've never given me reason to believe that there could ever be anything between us, but I still wanted to tell you."

If Hiruma knew how to show real bone jarring shock, he would have in that moment. The fact that he didn't left him staring at her with slightly widened eyes. "Come again?" His ears twitched as if he were honestly trying to make sure he heard her right.

"Go ahead and put it in your book. Anezaki Mamori has fallen for one Hiruma Youichi. I'm surprised that you haven't heard through your little spy network. I haven't been hiding it since college." Her head spun with a sort of delirium; shock at herself for being so blasé with her emotions and telling Hiruma exactly what she felt with almost no hitch in her words made her sag against the desk again.

Hiruma made no move to get closer nor did he back away, he simply stood there. "And the devil brushed his fingers along the feathers of an angel, contented, he fell back to the pit." Such almost poetic sounding words found their way out of his mouth and startled Hiruma into action. "Che! As if I didn't already know that. I was just waiting for you to notice, fucking manager."

Mamori smiled and shook her head. It wasn't often that she surprised Hiruma, but the words that had slipped out of his mouth before he returned to his usual demonic veneer startled Mamori. Is that what he thought of them as; Angel and Devil? "Hiruma, if you already knew, then why aren't you over here kissing me already?" It must be the delirium brought on by relieving her heart of its burden that caused her to be so bold, but the thought was fleeting as she found her lips captured and plundered.

_'He tastes of ash and fire...' _

And thus an Angel that loved him above all others saved the Devil from his fall.

Owari


	3. Chapter 3

Okay, darnit! WTF is up with my HiruMamo muse? Two days in a row it's been hounding me to write them, and I don't even know why! But! I'm seriously enjoying this. This will be the LAST installment of this series. A trilogy feels better than a just having a dual chapter story. So, buckle up, sit down, shut up, and hang the fk on! XD

Title: Even Angels and Devils Fall in Love

Fandom: Eyeshield 21

Pairing: HiruMamo!

Rating: NOT SAFE FOR WORK!!!! Mature themes, ladies (and gents?) so get ready; while not being in depth (as I find that I SUCK at writing het smut) there will be little left to the imagination as far as what is happening between the sheets, as it were. .

Warnings: Uhm, smut? Plotless (kinda) smut, just to get Hiruma off of my back so he will stop hounding me about only ever kissing Mamori in my fics. I's trying, Hiru-kun! I swear! Oh, and lots of language and semi-descriptive sexual acts of the heterosexual kind.

A/N: Bah, no author's note this time. Just read it and bleed from the nose and ears as your brain melts into an uber mushy puddle of questionable goo.

_"As with any Devil, he takes until his desire is fulfilled. The Angel falls to his charm; what lies ahead for these star-crossed lovers is hazy... and hot."_

000000000000000

_'It's so goddamned hard to wait...'_

Dinners, dancing, movies, late nights spent on the couch in Mamori's apartment, arguments, kisses, teasing... it was all building up and Hiruma had very little patience when it came to what he wanted. Taking what he wanted was simple, that was the best part and he intended to go as slowly as Mamori could stand it. But, waiting until she was ready was definitely _not_ easy.

Sure, he'd pushed just enough so that neither of them were in a constant state of arousal, but never truly making her his own. Were he able to become jealous of his body parts, he might glare at his left hand, but petty jealousy wasn't his style and he could hardly be upset about being able to actually _feel_ her from within... it just wasn't _exactly_ what he wanted but close enough. For now.

If anyone had ever told him that he would be waiting on a girlfriend for three years, he would have promptly laughed and then shot them in the face. Hiruma Youichi was never one to lag behind; it upset a precarious balance in his brain and would cause serious trouble for anyone who happened to be within his range at the moment of realization.

But, for _her_, and **only** her, he would wait as long as his body would hold out. He'd thought he'd known her personally back in high school and college, but over the last three years of their relationship, he'd found another side of her that he was sure only Sena had ever seen. Aside from the humor he reveled in when she would snarl at a rather simple bit of technology, he found that she was a rather romantic soul who worked hard to keep their relationship lively and close without resorting to sex. If his libido could forgive her for that, he might find it endearing.

And so, with a really bad attitude as he stomped into her apartment after practice, he was thrown for another loop. He could have cried –not that he ever would sink that low –at what he found waiting for him.

Mamori lay on the couch, her usual pink ruffled apron tied on neatly and a smile on her lips. She was nervous, obviously, but he couldn't focus on that at the moment. His green gaze trailed over the luscious curves that were barely hidden by the frufru garment, his throat drying out as the outer curves of her full breasts peeked out at the sides and the sweet dip of her nipped in waist grabbed his attention before he noticed that her hips flared out nicely from the little flap in the front. That little flap gave hints to what was really under it and he felt his eyes widen trying to commit this sight into his memory. The beads of nervous sweat that dotted her skin gave it a shine that made his tongue ache... not to mention another rather 'happy' part of his anatomy.

"Welcome home, Youichi," Mamori said, licking her lips nervously while her hands gripped the edges of her apron. "This sounded like a better idea than it looks like, I suppose."

Her words snapped him awake from his lustful daze, "Who says that this isn't a good idea?" His voice was much deeper and rougher as he moved around to sit beside her. "Unless you aren't ready, fucking manager." And boy did he hope _that_ wasn't the case. As it was, he had to excuse himself several times a day just to get rid of the fucking ache that the mere thought of her caused him, but if she really wasn't ready then he wouldn't push.

_'Fuck,'_ he thought, a hint of rose peeking out from the side of her slightly tented apron, _'If it were anyone but_ her_ this wouldn't be so difficult to ignore.'_

Mamori blushed, her lashes fluttering to rest against hot cheeks in a coy gesture, "No, Youichi, I want this very much. I'm just nervous."

A devilish smile curved his lips and he leaned forward; her words had given him the frame of mind to go slowly.

_'For her.'_

The kiss was slow and tender, easing her worry. Tongues battled and played, mapping out familiar territory that had become new and exciting. Fingers touched and smoothed over skin and cloth; hers tugging at his shirt while his traced the outer curves of her body without dipping too close to the places he wanted to touch.

It seemed as though his shirt melted away, her hands skimming over his back and chest in tentative little flutters that set his heart racing. "Nnn... Youichi." She sighed against his lips, the tone of rousing passion in her voice plowing into his gut and making his hands tighten momentarily on her skin.

"Shh, soon, Mamori," he growled, lips skating down the column of her throat to nip and kiss at her collarbone, her soft moan of approval and the tiny hands that gripped his hair spurring him on.

Mamori squirmed, his hands teasing her skin delightfully but not nearly hard enough. She had fallen for the demonic quarterback of the Deimon Devil Bats, not Sena. A whine escaped her throat and she pushed him back, getting more into the character that she had thought of when she had chosen this particular form of seduction. A hand tightened in his hair and she pulled his head up, nibbling on his lower lip. "If I wanted this much gentleness, I would have dated someone else."

A purring growl rumbled in his throat and he smirked, "Too gentle she says," he laughed, pinning her shoulders to the couch. "Then, let's try a penalty game." Sharp teeth scraped along her throat, arousingly rough but gentle enough to keep from breaking the skin, his tongue following to soothe the ache.

No sooner had Hiruma pinned her down than she worried if it had been the right thing to say; Hiruma was known to take things to the nth degree and she wasn't sure she would survive it if taken too far. Her worries, however, were soon laid to rest –or rather, blinded by the passion he evoked with the simplest of touches.

Her shoulders, while not seeming to be an erogenous zone, tingled as his breath ghosted over the gentle slope, the bend of her left elbow lit up as his fingers fluttered over her racing pulse and her lips were positively on fire, aching for another taste of his mouth.

His clothes melted away, somehow without his ever leaving her or stopping the gentle touches that were blazing across her senses; a fleeting thought crossed her mind –Hiruma was truly the devil. Only someone with access to dark magic could evoke the things he did in her; hunger, need, passion, want, desire yet tempered with a quiet feeling of being cherished above all else.

Joined in the most intimate way two separate people could be was much different than Mamori had thought. It wasn't roses and daisies as the Regency novels she could be found reading said. No, this was base, erotic, burning the feeling of him into her bones with heat that rivaled the fires of Hell.

She screamed, panted, moaned, and begged for more, climbing that mountain that he pushed her along on. It was a Death March in its own right –testing endurance and agility as positions were changed and tried.

When it finally became too much, her voice had given out and his name passed her lips in a breathily strangled cry, his own groan muffled in her neck moments later. His shuddering breath in her ear and the quivering in his usually tireless arms gave her a sense of satisfaction that ran so deep that she could feel a very devilish smirk stretch her lips. She was the cause of his reaction. She had pulled the mighty demon down into the realm of mortals –slicked with sweat and panting with exertion.

He leaned up, elbows quivering in an effort to keep from crushing her under his weight, an almost soft smile slipped across his lips and Mamori gasped; he loved her. It might never come out of his mouth, but that expression in his eyes told her what he was too proud to ever even hint at.

"I love you, too, Youichi."

A golden brow quirked in confusion, "Too? I didn't say that, fucking manager."

The Angel grinned and pulled him down to rest, petting the confusion from his brow. "Angels fall, Youichi."

He snorted into her neck, a tired sigh passing his lips. "And demons always catch them."

-Owari-


End file.
